"THE MYSTERY OF THE PEARLS"

Wairarapa Daily Times, 3 March 1934, Page 7

"THE MYSTERY OF THE PEARLS"

BY JOHN LAURENCE (Author of “The Double Cross Inn,” “Mystery Money,” The Riddle of Wraye,” etc).

COPYRIGHT PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

CHAPTER V.—Continued. Reynolds nodded. He was looking at his sister and Merton. She signalled to him. “Excuse me a minute, will von’'’. Reeves shrugged his shoulders. He had the feelings that he was the subject of Mary’s and Merton’s whispered discussion. They had not accepted him, he reflected, were watching him as though he were one of the police. Perhaps they had come to the conclusion that he had been awake that night! ' He began to feel suddenly resentful. If he told the police what he had heard! If lie gave them the package he had in his drawer at the inn! They would be more than suspicious. Nothing would save all three from immediate arrest. If he were not a quixotic fool that was exactly what he ought to do. He, a law-abiding citizen, was deliberately suppressing vital evidence, and all because lie was in love. After all, what did he know about them? Nothing, when it came down to the final argument, absolutely nothng. They might be the three cleverest criminals in England, bluffing thenway through by a charm of manner which was only a thin veneer. And if he got mixed up in the case, if it ever came out that he had been shielding them, he would find himself in a decidedly awkward position, very likely in prison as an accessory after the fact. Reeves could not see himself explaining to the judge that lie had acted as he had done because he had fallen in love at first sight! And then she was speaking, and all his anger died away. He had deliberately turned away from them so as not to give the appearance even of eavesdropping, and he had not heard her approach. He swung round and saw a friendly smile on her face. “Oh, Mr Reeves, Billy was telling us that you felt you ought to help us.’’ “Of course 1 do, Miss Reynolds,” he stammered. “I think it’s dreadful the way the police have behaved.” “But we don’t want to drag you in it, Mr Reeves. It’s not your fault at all. But it’s dreadful to be suspected.”

“Of course you didn’t do it, Miss Reynolds. The jiolice must be blind ever to think so.”

Mary shook her head and smiled. “I don’t suppose they suspect I actually killed Mr Whiteoakes,” she declared. “But I think they do suspect I drove your car and that Mr Merton killed him. .Why, they even asked him, before you came, if he had any objection to having his finger prints taken. Of course he hadn’t.”

“Did they find some on the poker?” asked Reeves quickly. “That would prove him innocent at once, if they weren’t his.”

“I don’t know. A policeman went off with the prints. I think that is why the inspector is in no hurry. He ’s waiting for a telephone message.” “Well, I want to help,” declared Reeves eagerly. “I feel that it all started somehow when you took pity on me the other night, and I’d like to do what I can. Good Heavens, look at that policeman!” Mary turned round. “He’s digging for hidden treasure,” she declared calmly. “Hut look where he’s digging,” Reeves insisted.

“Where we pulled up the cabbages, Mr Reeves. Cabbages are not very thrilling things, tire they? That’s where you lost your knife, wasn t it? She was laughing at him. ““yes,” he answered dully. “They —thev—”

“When you looked over the house yesterday, Mr Reeves,” she continued, and now her tones were icy. “You did not go near the cabbage bed. You kept along the pathway all the time. I hope if the police find anything you will be gratified at the success of your spying.” “So you believe I’m connected with the police!” he cried. “Just because I saw you burying those pearls—” He broke off as lie saw the startled look on Mary’s face, saw the colour drain away from it. For a moment he. thought she was going to faint, and he put out his hand. She waved him

away. “What do you know?” she wins

pered. “I know a lot more than the police do, Miss Reynolds. And despite that I believe you to be innocent, or I should have told them I know it was my car you used, that you must have changed the magneto, that I heard you and Merton return at dawn, that I saw you burying that box last night, that I have got it now, and the police can dig until they are black in the lace without finding it. Now will you believe I want to help you?” ■ He spoke rapidly, insistently, oblivious of the construction which might be placed upon his words that he had been spying upon them, though unwittingly. _ <•1 was coming up last night to warn you,” lie continued, as she ud not speak. “The police were watching the house from the road. I had to come across the fields and through the garden. It was then I saw you. I—” Suddenly she spoke. Her words were unexpected. “You will stop and have lunch, Mr Reeves? You will find the cabbages at any rate are home grown.” . Reeves nodded. He was staring at the policeman digging, staring with the knowledge that though he would find nothing, Mary Reynolds had found out all she wanted, that she knew he had been there the night before. There came the sound of the telephone bell. Merton came strolling up with a smile on his face. “Expect that’s the message about the finger prints,” he said eusilv. lighting a cigarette. “That policeman’s given up digging. Somebody must have been there before him.” Reeves returned the other’s scrutiny. If this was some gigantic bluff he meant to find out. To his relief the inspector came out. He was almost apologetic when he spoke. mi, “I’m sorry we’ve troubled you, he said politely. “It is as unpleasant for me sometimes to carry out orders as it must be for those who are indicted with our visits.” The inspector had, as a matter o fact, protested against the search on the grounds that the evidence was not strong enough to justify it, fl od >y 1 8 very carrying out would, if Merton were the murderer, put him and the others definitely on their guard, even enable them to destroy, if they wished, any incriminating evidence. > “We’re not blaming von, Inspec-

tor,” said Merton. “All I would like to know is if we are free to drive our car ? ’’

“I have no instructions to the contrary,” replied the inspector politely, though there was a little note of doubt in his.tones. Merton turned to Mary.

“I want to go down to the Seven Sisters and get some beer. Perhaps, Mary, you will entertain Mr Reeves till lunch?’

Reeves cut in before Mary could reply. “I’ll drive you down, Merton, if you like. I’ve got to go in any case to Reigate. There is just time, I fancy, before lunch.” A suspicion had crossed his mind that Merton intended to do more than buy beer at the Seven Sisters. He was quite capable of making some specious excuse to enter Reeves’s rooms at the in. And that might lead to complications. If Merton were the murderer he would not hesitate to go to any lengths to regain the one clue which Avas absolutely damning. And if there was any slip even Merton could not, it seemed to Reeves, account to the police for the possession of pearls, the robbery of which had not yet been announced in the papers.

Reeves thought he detected a momentary look of chagrin across Merton’s face, but the latter’s words did not betray what he must have been thinking. Mary had called him a spy, and he did not doubt her accusation had been made in the first place to Merton. Their sudden pleasantness was all the more suspicious therefore. Reeves was rather beginning to enjoy himself.

“If it won’t seem discourteous, Reeves, I think I’ll take the car out and have a run down.” “I’ll introduce you to the landlord. He loves to get first-hand information. ’ ’

Mary bit her lip, while her brother grinned cheerfully. “Merton has ambitions to be a story teller, Reeves,” he said slyly. Reeves, having left his car in the road way, was the first away, and he drove fast to the Seven Sisters, so fast that when he pulled up and got out Merton’s car was not yet in sight. Reeves went straight up to his own room, and to his relief found the small box still where he had left it. He quickly slipped it into his pocket and was sitting in the saloon bar chatting to the landlord when Merton came in. “This is Mr Merton —Mr Brackenbury. Join us in a glass, landlord, and then I must get away to Reigate to see the agents have definitely fixed up things. ” , “A tyre went flat,” explained Merton, as he held up his glass of beer and looked through it. ‘ ‘ That looks good to me, landlord. I got my hands in a filthy mess changing it.” Reeves put down his empty glass, and turned towards the door. The excuse was ingenious! “If you want a wash, Merton, you can use my room. The landlord will show you which it is. See you later.” Before Merton' could reply Reeves had closed the door behind him and was chuckling softly. “That will take” the wind out of his sails. I’ll bet he doesn’t leave a sock unturned in his search.”

The reflected, on his way to Reigate, that there was something curious about the silence of Merton. Mary must have told him definitely that he had got the pearls, but Merton had made no effort to prevent him from going to Reigate. it could only be because lie was confident the pearls were still in Reeves’s room, that once they were retrieved the three at the White House would have little to fear. Reeves was beginning to realise that it was now too late to tell the police what he knew, that his story would be looked upon with suspicion, on the grounds that he was telling it to save his own skin because the hunt was getting too hot.

“And what the dickens am I to do with them?” he ruminated. “If I carry them about I might be stopped and searched and then I’m for it. If I just throw? them away, they’ll be found sooner or later and that might make things worse. I've got to hide them, but where?” He rejected the idea of them anywhere in the country, for he knew how unexpectedly things turned up, however cleverly they were hidden. And in any case' lie felt it was impossible in broad daylight. Even if the police were not watching him and he did not think they were lor the present—the curious eyes of some countryman would not fail to see him. Reeves drove into Reigate with a feleing of exasperation. There was no real reason whv he should have gone, except to get rid of the pearls, and lie drove slowly up the High-st. as far off the solution of the problem as ever. Every policeman he saw made his hand go to his pocket. He pulled up and lighted a cigarette, trying to convince himself that hid nerves were not running away with him. He was half inclined to tread on the accelerator and drive anvwhere —except back to the White House or the inn. For if he could not find a solution to his problem coming out it was certainly not going to be solved going back along the same road. And lie was just as sure in his own mind that he did not intend to take the pearls back with him. (To be Continued).